Hello again, my dears! I hope you're as happy to see a new chapter as I am to bring it to you. Just an FYI, I realized I made an oopsit last chapter: The day of the Fencing lesson, Lizzy, Mary, and the children did take a carriage with the Stashwick crest on the doors - it was the day before, when they attended the luncheon, that they took the unmarked carriages. I have since corrected the mistake.

In this chapter, Mary once again proves her worth, giving good advice to ODG, who also seeks the wisdom of others to make a big decision. You might want to have a tissue handy - I made myself tear up.

Chapter Nineteen

Stashwick House, 27 March 1822

My dearest aunt,

I hope this letter finds you and your family well. Please be assured that the children and I are doing much better—we are in London, as you see from the address. Mary and her children are with us. Henry's sister had written and asked that we join the family in town—for literally everyone from their side is here—and though I did not initially wish to, I was advised by my own sister and her husband the vicar that my children had needs and I had duties that hiding away in Berkshire would not fulfil.

If not now, when? Is that not the old saying?

You have lived in London, Aunt Gardiner, and while you may not have moved among the same circles as I have done since my marriage, you know the most priceless business of the place: gossip. I made one social call to Mr. Darcy's home, with Mary and our children, and some unknown person who saw the Stashwick crest on the door decided to spin a Canterbury tale about us courting in secret out of respect for my just coming out of mourning.

Actually, two calls—both with the children for the sake of his daughter—but the first we made in unmarked carriages to avoid just such a situation as this.

The reason I mention it is because I was so vexed, I was mentally packing my trunks to come running to Hertfordshire. I found myself wishing so very much to talk with you, and with dear Charlotte, for you are the two most sensible women I know, and though you both have some small bias, you are the most objective.

When I mentioned the scheme to Mary, she firmly reminded me that running away from a problem was not only not in my nature, but rather likely to fuel the fire than put it out. So, with all due respect to her—for she has given me excellent advice of late and has been so very supportive—I still wish to speak to you in person, that I may speak more freely. I shall write to Charlotte as well and invite her also, and we can make a merry little party here at Stashwick House.

I have another reason for inviting you, specifically, Aunt Gardiner. I was reminded by Jane on our arrival in London that you and I had talked of bringing my cousin Anne out into society here in town. I should like to renew my offer to introduce her at balls and parties to increase her chances of making a good match. We would, of course, go shopping first to have her measured for some new gowns, so that she may look her most beautiful at every event.

Please write as soon as possible, or I shall forget that my courage always rises and come to you anyway.

Your loving niece,

Elizabeth

-…-

"There goes an example of using wealth to one's advantage," said Elizabeth as she entered the drawing room.

Mary looked up from her sewing. "Whatever do you mean, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth sat down in an adjacent chair and pulled a framed linen handkerchief from her own work basket, as well as the needle and thread she needed. "I mean sending a footman off to Hertfordshire with our letters instead of sending them by post."

"I see what you mean," Mary agreed. "Have you any plans for today?"

"Aside from ignoring the urge to pack up the children and follow the messenger to Meryton? No. I am not expecting any callers, either, but given that the whole of London must know I am in town, I expect I shall be besieged almost as soon as breakfast is done."

She was not far from the mark. About half an hour after breakfast, as the children were being ushered back into the schoolroom, the knocker sounded on the front door. Simmonds answered, and a few moments later announced Lady Disley.

Elizabeth was somewhat relieved that the first caller was a member of the family.

"How are you this morning, my dear?" asked the countess as she kissed her cheek.

After returning her affection, Elizabeth sighed and said, "I am well. Still vexed and curious as to how the news of my visit to Darcy's house got about to the regular gossips but doing well otherwise."

"I am very glad to hear it," said Lady Disley as they sat down together on the sofa. Mary took the chair Elizabeth had occupied earlier that morning. "I was half afraid that with how sensitive you've been, this one rumor would send you running back to the country."

Elizabeth had to laugh, as Darcy had said nearly the same thing. "I confess it nearly did, but more sensible heads prevailed," she replied, with a glance and a smile at Mary.

Lady Disley also looked at her sister with a smile. "My gratitude to you, Lady Winstead," said she. "I have been rather concerned for our dear Elizabeth and my nieces and nephews, and we both know it is not in her nature to run away, but to stand up and face every challenge."

Mary smiled. "That is almost verbatim what I said to her, my lady."

Lady Disley then turned her attention back to Elizabeth. "Now, have you given any thought as to how to combat the rumor? Or even to give it credence?"

Elizabeth was startled by the latter question. "Give it credence? Why should I want to do that?"

Her sister-by-marriage reached for her hand. "My dear, much as I loved my brother and wish with all my heart that he was still here, he is not. I know—knew—Henry well enough to know that he would not wish you to wallow in misery. He would want you to live your life again and be happy even in his absence."

It was all she could do to stifle a groan of frustration. "Why is everyone so obsessed with marriage?" Elizabeth said, her exasperation seeping into her tone. "Why can no one understand that a year is too soon, for me, to even begin thinking of another husband?"

"We're not saying you must marry again, of course," said Lady Disley placatingly. "But you are still young, Elizabeth, and my nephew is an eligible match for you."

"What makes you—or anyone else—think I even want another husband?" Elizabeth countered as she stood and moved a few paces away. "I not only loved Henry, I did my duty to him, to the Faulkner legacy, and to the Stashwick marquessate by providing an heir and a spare. Aside from rearing my children to adulthood, my obligations are therefore fulfilled. I do not need to marry again."

"And what about your wants, Lizzy?" asked Mary. "What about your desires as a woman?"

Elizabeth scoffed. "Since when do you, my ever-pious sister, concern yourself with such things?"

"Since I became a wife," Mary said matter-of-factly. "I happen to enjoy my marital duties to my husband, as I know you enjoyed yours. Also, I have come to know a number of widows in my time as a vicar's wife, Lizzy—enough to know that those urges do not lie in the earth with their departed husbands. And despite the general acceptance in society for widows to take lovers, I hardly think you the type who would."

Elizabeth rubbed her hands over her face. "I cannot believe I am hearing any of this," she said with a groan. "Firstly, carnal pleasures are the furthest thing from my mind right now. Secondly, I find it very odd that people who claim to know me intimately have been questioning me since the very day my husband was gone a year as to whether I would marry again. Why is that always the first thing that comes to mind when someone's year of mourning is done? Why can you not just be supportive of me and the children as we reclaim our place in society and move forward with our lives?"

Tears of frustration, pain, and anger burned behind her eyes as she spun around and hurried from the drawing room, her skirt swirling about her legs. Elizabeth hurried to her room and shut the door, leaning against it with her chest aching as she fought to calm her rapid breathing.

After a couple of minutes, she moved away from the door and over to her writing desk, where she sat down and pulled out her journal.

My dearest Henry,

I just don't understand it. Why does everyone seem to believe I should marry again, when we are still coping with the loss of you? Just because I am eligible to marry again does not mean I wish to. How can anyone think I should want it?

I do miss your touch, and the way you made me feel when we joined together. I miss being your wife. I have told you many times how much I miss the way you would tease me to make me smile or laugh, and how much I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss how just doing the everyday business of life together made me happy. I miss how just being in the same room with you made me feel content. Intimacy is about so much more than pleasures of the flesh.

You were perfect for me. How is any man supposed to compete with perfection? I could not marry again unless I could give my whole heart, and I can hardly do that when you took part of it away with you.

And really, how fair would it be to be the love of one man's life when he will not be the love of mine?

Oh, how I miss you.

Your beloved Elizabeth

After writing the letter, Elizabeth snapped the journal closed and put it away. Pouring out her frustrations hadn't helped like she'd thought it would, so she got up to pace her room. That activity only allowed her mind to replay every conversation she'd had regarding marriage, which only served to frustrate her more, as no one could seem to understand that she was not interested in marrying again.

Unbidden, a dimpled smile that did not belong to Henry flashed across her mind's eye. All right, so she was drawn to Darcy's smile, what of it? That did not mean she wished to marry the man!

Feeling a headache coming on, she moved to the bellpull and gave it a tug. When her lady's maid answered, she first requested peppermint oil for the throbbing in her head, then asked her to convey the message that she was going to lay down and should not be disturbed unless one of the children desperately needed her. After discarding only her shoes, she slipped under the counterpane and was surprised to find herself almost immediately slipping away into sleep.

When Elizabeth awoke, she found that she was not alone in her room. Both Mrs. Gardiner and Charlotte Edison sat in the two chairs before the hearth, one reading a book and the other working a sampler.

"Gracious me, I cannot really have been asleep so long!" she cried softly as she sat up. "It must be almost dinnertime. You came without even sending a reply!"

Her visitors looked at one another and smiled, then Mrs. Gardiner said, "I am afraid you have, Lizzy. But do not make yourself uneasy, my dear. Your sister Mary, my Anne, Mrs. Wilson, and the nursemaids have had all the children well in hand."

"So, you have brought Anne to be paraded about as I was after all?"

"It was by your invitation, dearest," Mr. Gardiner reminded her. "And despite the difficulties you are facing, you and I both know that however delightful a town Meryton is, Anne has a better chance of making a good match here."

"Don't I know the truth of that," said Charlotte. "I certainly hope that Cathy doesn't suffer my fate and reach seven-and-twenty before she marries."

Elizabeth rose from the bed, straightened her hair and smoothed her skirt as best she could, then moved to sit on the trunk at the end of the bed, which also faced the fireplace.

"Charlotte, you met both of your husbands in Meryton," she pointed out.

"Yes, but David is originally from London. He was clerk to a Mr. Knightley here before answering Mr. Phillips' advertisement," Charlotte said. "And as you know, your uncle is not a young man anymore. He means to retire soon, and my husband will have his practice. It may not be as prestigious as serving gentry and noblemen here in London, but he enjoys his work, and his family wants for nothing. He adores country living but is still very much a London man."

Mrs. Gardiner closed her book and set it in her lap, then turned slightly in her chair to give Elizabeth her full attention. "Now, Elizabeth, having read your letter and spoken with Mary, I believe I have an idea of the situation, but should like to hear your side."

Elizabeth drew a breath, looked at the two women before her, and poured out her heart. Her anger and frustration fell like a flood from her lips, as did tears from her eyes.

Charlotte stood when it was evident she had finished and brought her a handkerchief. As Elizabeth dried her eyes and blew her nose, she sat beside her on the trunk and placed an arm around her shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

"Dearest Lizzy," said she. "I will agree with you in that it is most unfortunate that the first expectation of a widow is when she will marry again. I confess that I was even of the same mind as you when Mr. Collins died. I had done my duty as a woman and married and had a child, and my only concern then was with how I would take care of her. My resources, after all, aren't so vast as yours. I was very fortunate, however, in that my return to my father's house was brief and that William allowed me to live with him and Ruth and the girls before he passed away. You might remember that it was he that introduced me to David after he came to Meryton."

Elizabeth sniffled. "I remember from your letters, yes. But Charlotte, it was different for you when you met Mr. Edison. You never loved my cousin as I loved Henry—you didn't love him at all."

Charlotte nodded. "No, I did not. Which, I suppose, did make it easier for me when I actually did fall in love—and no one was more surprised than I, as I was never romantic, you know. I was resigned to the belief that it would never happen for me, having reached the age that I did without a single proposal. That's why I accepted Mr. Collins, even though I knew he had proposed to you only a few days before. Even though I had seen how ridiculous he was. The circumstances of a woman, her very respectability, is judged by whether she can get herself a husband, and I knew that the people of Meryton were looking on me with pity and believed I was destined for spinsterhood."

She paused and sighed, then drew a deep breath. "At that point in my life, Lizzy, I figured that any husband at all was better than none. Mr. Collins was silly and pompous and allowed Lady Catherine too much rein over his decision-making, but he was so happy that I had accepted him, that he could please his 'noble patroness' by returning with a successful engagement, that he was actually very good to me. I was honestly content with the choice I had made even though I know it did not have your approbation."

"I am still sorry for judging you so harshly," said Elizabeth.

Charlotte squeezed her shoulders again. "It's quite all right, I've long forgiven you. Now, as we know, I did marry a second time. So did your husband, Lizzy."

"Yes, but Henry waited six years before he sought another wife," Elizabeth pointed out. "Why can I not do the same?"

"Do not be silly, Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner. "A woman's feelings are different than a man's. I suspect that your inclination to do the exact opposite of what others think is best for you may be blinding you—you never did care for being dictated to."

"But why does everyone assume I even want to marry again? And really, Aunt Gardiner, the very anniversary of Henry's passing, Mary asked me if I would consider it. Heaven and earth, my own sister could not even wait to press me about marrying again!" Elizabeth groused.

"I am certain Mary was only trying to be kind, dearest," her aunt admonished softly. "Now, I concede your point that not everyone is the same and for some one year of mourning simply isn't enough. Society's expectations can be a bit ridiculous on some matters. But you're not everyone, Lizzy. And you may think you are not ready to move on; you may feel like you will never love anyone as much as you loved Lord Stashwick, but the truth is that you don't get to decide that. Oh, you may think you do, but the truth is that it is all in God's hands."

As much as it chafed Elizabeth's sense of autonomy to admit it, she knew her aunt was right. "You would think God would know when one of His children isn't ready," she mumbled.

"If He thinks you are, Lizzy, then you are," said Charlotte.

Elizabeth huffed. "Very well. But what about the gentleman, hmm? Suppose some man falls violently in love with me, some fellow who has never known love as I have known it. How is it fair to him to set me up as the great love of his life, when he will not be the great love of mine?"

"Why does your love for another man have to be more or less than your love for Lord Stashwick?" asked Mrs. Gardiner. "You once told me that you had asked him if he loved his first wife, and he confessed that he did. Do you believe that loving you lessened the love he felt for her? Did loving you make what they had together any less real? Less special?"

"And Lizzy," said Charlotte, "did not you tell me that when His Lordship's eldest daughter confronted you at your debut ball, you told her that he didn't have to love you the same as her mother, he only had to love you?"

Tears once again began to fall from Elizabeth's eyes as her own argument was used against her. As the truth of her own words, and theirs, began to sink in.

"But… What about Henry?" Elizabeth whispered.

Mrs. Gardiner rose and came to kneel before her. As she took one of Elizabeth's hands in her own, she said softly, "Henry is dead, Elizabeth. I am so very sorry you have had to face such a heartbreaking loss at so young an age, but he is gone. You have to move on with your life. Do not let your loyalty to him make you feel ashamed or guilty for still wanting to love and be loved. And do not be so stubborn that you keep your heart closed to every man who may yet love you as he did."

For a long moment, Elizabeth could only stare at her aunt. And then, as if a dam on the river beside the castle had burst, the truth sank in: she hadn't truly let Henry go. Digging her proverbial heels in every time someone brought up the subject of marrying again and saying she had no desire to marry another was just her way of holding on to that last ephemeral thread tying her life to his. If she was to even consider marrying again, it meant he really was… gone.

Unable to bear the pain of her heart breaking all over again, Elizabeth turned her head into Charlotte's shoulder and began to sob.